


Assasination Attempt

by amissaelit815, nenuphar8



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angry Clarke, Betrayal, Broken Clarke, Clexa, F/F, Genocide, Guilt, Heda Lexa, Original Character(s), Smut, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5750977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amissaelit815/pseuds/amissaelit815, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nenuphar8/pseuds/nenuphar8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Clarke wipes out the Mountain Men, she tries to bring herself a semblance of peace by killing Lexa. Things don't go exactly as planned.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>The one where Clarke tries and fails to kill Lexa because she really wants to kill herself but Lexa won't let her. And then Lexa makes her go with her to Polis.<br/>Trigger warning: mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Assassination

**Author's Note:**

> Season 3 is only a few days away! And I just couldn't stand the wait any longer. From the promo when Clarke puts her knife to Lexa's throat - what happens next?
> 
> I don't own anything from The 100 except my poor broken feels. If I've forgotten to tag anything, or if you have comments, suggestions, or otherwise, please let me know! :)
> 
> Special thanks to my beta buddy lostkate815 over on tumblr - never would've written this without your help!

“Clarke.” Lexa inclines her head ever so slightly, acknowledging the blonde’s sudden appearance with a knife to her throat without additional comment.

“Lexa,” Clarke responds, the name hissing out of her lips with contempt and anger as she holds the blade tightly to Lexa’s neck.

Lexa looks down slightly from her taller vantage point, examining Clarke’s face. Something has changed in her blue eyes. No longer does Lexa see hope and the belief of something better than survival reflected there. Lexa sees a feral cat, a soul with no thoughts of the next day, only images of the kill before them. Her eyes are icy blue, cold, and calculating.

She is too skinny, Lexa notes. He hair is ragged and red in color, and she has dark circles beneath her bloodshot eyes. She wears grounder clothing, and the knife she holds at Lexa’s throat is crude, if effectively sharp.

As Clarke returns her gaze, something flickers, and Lexa sees a flash of the old Clarke, a flash of confusion and hurt and pain as she looks into Lexa’s eyes. But too soon, Clarke’s eyes return to those of one hunted, and one who hunts in return. Lexa sighs in resignation.

“You are a strong leader, but a foolish one,” Lexa admonishes her, annoyingly calm beneath Clarke’s blade.

Clarke, keeping the knife at Lexa’s neck, shoves her backwards towards a table. Lexa allows herself to be pushed.

“You are finished with giving me advice, Lexa. You are finished, period,” Clarke states with vehemence as Lexa bumps into the table.

“Clarke, you know better than most that hesitation in battle can kill you,” Lexa says quietly, eyes burning with a fire Clarke can’t place.

And before Clarke can respond, Lexa is in motion. She disarms Clarke in a flash, grabbing Clarke’s arm and twisting. As her knife drops to the ground, she pulls on Clarke’s arm and spins, flipping the diminutive blonde to the ground on her back.

“Branwada seintaim en taim set yu daun.” _Even a fool knows when to surrender_ , Lexa murmurs quietly.

Clarke looks up at her from the ground, “I’m no fool. Just a wuskripa.” _Monster._

Lexa’s eyes widen ever so slightly. Clarke then spins on her back, attempting to knock Lexa’s feet out from under her. But Lexa is too fast, avoiding the swipe of Clarke’s legs.

“Zorin! Komba raun hir!” Zorin! _Come here!_ , Lexa raises her voice to say as Clarke rolls to the side and kneels to get up.

Before Clarke is able to fully stand, Lexa is before her, and with a short exhalation, Lexa punches Clarke in the gut, doubling her over. Zorin, the guard Lexa had called, enters the tent, eyes bulging in surprise at the sight of Clarke.

“Heda,” Commander, the grounder says, readying to apologize for Clarke’s intrusion into Lexa’s tent.

“Leida, Zorin. Teik em we nau.” _Later, Zorin. Take her away._ Lexa’s voice is that of the Commander. She will accept no excuses.

“Sha, Heda.” Yes, Commander. He bows his head and walks over to Clarke.

Clarke, still struggling to catch her breath, tries to fight Zorin off. But the grounder warrior is twice her size, and his grip on her wrist is strong.

“I will see you soon, Clarke,” Lexa says, voice still annoyingly calm, “When you have had time to calm down.”

Clarke’s only response is a growl and a newly energized attempt to escape from Zorin’s hold. Zorin struggles mightily with the catamount in his grasp. Clarke claws and bites and does everything she can to be free.

Zorin manages to remove Clarke from the Commander’s presence, calling for another guard to assist him. Together, they half carry Clarke to the back of camp to an empty tent. She fights them the whole way, managing to kick the new guard in the shin and give Zorin a solid punch to the face. Despite her efforts, however, they tie Clarke’s wrists behind her around the center pole of the tent. Without saying another word, and wanting to escape the demon that came to slay their commander, they exit.

Clarke struggles against her bound hands, pulling and twisting and stretching to escape. But her bonds are tight, and what adrenaline she had from her fight with Lexa and with the guards is quickly draining from her limbs. She drops to the floor, leaning against the pole with her legs splayed in front of her.

“Some assassination attempt,” she mutters irritably, and leans back to heavily thud her head against the pole.


	2. Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is a mess, Lexa is trying to remain the cool calm Commander, and the sexual tension never ends.

Clarke sleeps fitfully, tied to the post. Her hands are cold and numb from the tension the guards had put into the knots. No one comes to loosen her bonds. She is unsurprised. Lexa has no reason to trust her, as far as the grounders are concerned, and every reason to simply kill her and be done with it. She fully expects Lexa to kill her for her attempted assassination. Clarke can’t find it in herself to care.

She had left Camp Jaha months ago, the blood of the mountain heavy on her heart. She survived in the woods, scrounging and hunting to survive as she traveled aimlessly through the heart of grounder territory. As she traveled, she nursed her hurt over Lexa’s betrayal, sharpening the sting of it into a murderous edge. She used her antagonism to attempt to smother the guilt of wiping out a civilization.

She disguised herself as a grounder, dying her hair, adopting their clothes. She picked up phrases of Trigedasleng, heard the rumors of the Skai Prisa, Sky Princess, who had obliterated the Mountain Men from existence. Wuskripa, they called her. _Boogeyman._

Though the grounders had hated the Mountain Men and had had every intention of fighting them, wiping them out entirely was not something they could have even conceptualized before those from the Ark had returned to Earth. Clarke had brought the destructive capacity of her ancestors back to the ground. To the grounders, she had become a wuskripa, something to be feared.

The alliance of Camp Jaha with the grounders continued in her absence, in part due to fear of the Skai Prisa returning, and also due to Octavia and Lincoln’s continued efforts to maintain it in order to help the survivors at Camp Jaha learn to live on the ground. Without Clarke, and with the Mountain Men wiped out, there was little to prevent the alliance from flourishing.

As Clarke learned this, she realized that her people had no need of her. The grounders thought her a monster. Lexa had betrayed her and did not care for her as she claimed she had. All that Clarke had done to protect her people, and they were finally safe. She would suffer in obscurity from the guilt of having wiped out a civilization, and no one would care.

Clarke refused to do this. She would kill Lexa and be free to die having brought a small measure of peace to her heart. Her logical brain had only turned her into a monster. Her heart, buried, broken and battered as it was, was all that she had left to safeguard. And she was going to ease it in the only way she knew how.

But she had failed. She had come to kill Lexa, and she had thought it would be easy. But when she looked into Lexa’s green eyes, seeing only calm and curiosity, she had been unable to do it. She had killed hundreds of grounders, destroyed the Mountain Men, brought together the grounder clans and Sky People, and yet, looking into the eyes of Lexa, her focus and certainty of purpose was shattered.

And here she was, lying in a tent, tied to a pole, having failed her self-imposed mission. And she is finally prepared to die. She realizes that it doesn’t matter that she failed. Her lack of ability for vengeance is just another facet of the monster she has become. Able to kill children, but not a war commander. She is disgusted with herself, and ready to be finished.

Sunlight blossoms on her face painfully as the tent flap is lifted. Zorin enters, surveying the tent and noting that Clarke still sits where he left her, before exiting again. Lexa then enters. She wears traveling clothes with no visible armor. No warpaint disguises her face. She enters the tent and regards Clarke with what Clarke can only describe as a single-minded focus.

“Why have you returned, Clarke?” Lexa asks, voice plaintive.

Clarke licks her dry lips, annoyed that Lexa was going to draw this out.

“To kill you. Obviously.” Clarke says.

“You did not do a very good job of it,” Lexa notes, briefly touching her neck where Clarke’s blade had left a small snick of blood.

Clarke snarls, impatient and tired at the same time. She is tired of fencing with everyone. Tired of fighting.

“Yes, well, the wuskripa is apparently also a fool,” Clarke says angrily, face contorting.

Lexa regards her with hooded eyes, clearly angered by something.

“You are no Wuskripa. Why do you call yourself this?” Lexa asks, brows furrowed. She had heard the whisperings among her people. She knew what they called Clarke and why. But to hear it from her own lips? This is not the Clarke she had known.

“Because that is what I am,” Clarke responds heatedly, letting go of the anger still simmering in her chest, “I’ve killed hundreds of your people, and I’ve taken out an entire civilization. Mothers and children. Dead. By my hand. I am a wraith of darkness. I have killed so much to protect my people, and they have no need of me any longer.”

“Clarke, your people search for you. They want you to return,” Lexa counters quietly.

“I will not return. Seeing their faces is like looking upon those that I’ve killed. I will not do it.” Clarke says with finality, voice subtly cracking, “Jus drein, jus daun. Blood must have blood. It is time you took me to my execution now.”

Lexa’s eyes flicker, surprised, in sudden recognition. She sees no tears on Clarke’s face, but she can sense the tortured soul beneath. She knows now why Clarke had come.


	3. The Commander's Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa explains to Clarke what is going to happen, and it is not what she expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut is coming soon! :) And then some traveling shenanigans. Enjoy!

“There is to be no execution,” Lexa says slowly.

Clarke, confused, looks up at her.

“I have killed hundreds of your people, Lexa. I must die,” Clarke explains.

Lexa smiles coldly, angering Clarke all the more, “Have you forgotten that I am the Commander?” 

Lexa walks around the center pole, speaking to Clarke as though she was not tied to it and uncomfortable on the floor. “No, you will not die. You and I are going to travel together for a time.”

Clarke grunts noncommittally, and Lexa continues, “See it as a punishment if you must, but regardless, you will travel with the Commander and her personal guard.”

Lexa rounds the entire tent coming to rest once again in front of Clarke. Clarke looks up at her, waiting for further explanation. 

“If,” Lexa says, pausing before she continues, “We reach our destination and you still wish to die, I will free you to do with your life as you will.”

At this, Lexa approaches Clarke. Clarke slowly and awkwardly stands to look Lexa in the eye, bound wrists pulling painfully at her shoulders. She is not sure that she believes what the Commander is saying. To Lexa’s surprise, the hunted look from the night before is entirely gone. She sees only resignation now, and relief at the possibility of release. Clarke is surprised to see concern in Lexa’s eyes, where before there was only coolness and control. 

“I do not enjoy seeing you like this, Clarke of the Sky People,” Lexa says quietly, eyes holding sadness, “You are meant for more than such a life.”

Clarke snorts, unsure of the concern held in Lexa’s eyes, “I was meant to be a great leader of my people? Like you told me before? I led them, Lexa. I led them...,” she trails off, turning her head away.

“Not that I have a choice, anyway,” Clarke says bitingly, straining once again at her wrists. 

Lexa, concern wiped from her features, smiles mischievously, “You’re right,” she says, “You do not have a choice.” Lexa turns her face aside, calling out.

“Zorin! Breik em au.”  _ Zorin! Free her. _

Zorin enters the tent, looking uncertainly at Clarke. However, he does as his Commander orders, heading nearer to Clarke to undo her bonds. 

As he approaches, Clarke tenses ever so slightly, preparing for something.

“Hod op.”  _ Hold on. _ Lexa says, raising a hand to stop the man. Zorin freezes with his hands outstretched.

Lexa brings her face closer to Clarke’s, staring into her very soul. Clarke swallows. She reaches toward Clarke, patting her down carefully. She removes a small knife hidden beneath Clarke’s shirt. She finds another one in her boot. 

“Mela op, blinka au, Zorin.”  _ Head up, eyes open, Zorin,  _ Lexa admonishes, straightening as she finishes her search of Clarke, handing Zorin the weapons, eyes never leaving Clarke’s face. Clarke licks her lips nervously.

“Wada. Gyon au,”  _ Water. Go _ , Lexa says, and Zorin departs. 

Lexa, her smile beginning to unnerve Clarke, begins to pace slowly in front of her.

“I will not allow you to kill yourself,” Lexa says.

“I wasn’t - ” Clarke begins to say, before Lexa cuts her off.

“We both already know that you are not able to kill me,” Lexa’s eyes flash angrily, and she pauses mid-stride to turn towards Clarke “So do not take me for a branwada.”  _ Fool.  _ “And we also both already know that you are tired of killing, so I know that you do not seek to kill Zorin.”

Lexa pauses for a few moments before she continues her pacing.

“If you want me to let you go, you must promise that you will attempt no such thing before we arrive at our destination,” Lexa stops her pacing and looks at Clarke dead on, “Or I will be forced to keep you here.”

Clarke starts to argue, “You can’t -”

Lexa interrupts her, “I can. And I will, Clarke.”

Lexa’s tone is serious, and Clarke knows that she would do as she says. 

“The clans are at peace with the Sky People, Clarke. The Azgeda are cowed, for the moment. The Commander is not needed as she is in times of war,” Lexa explains, confusing Clarke with the change in topic.

“Travel with me in this rare time of freedom that I have, and I will free you to do as you will,” Lexa says, “Choose not to do so, and you will waste away as a prisoner of the Trigedakru.”

Clarke’s head is still bowed, Lexa standing and waiting for her response. Clarke realizes that she has few other options. Finally, after what seems like an eternity to Lexa, Clarke raises her eyes to meet hers and nods.

“I will do as you ask, Lexa,” Clarke says, defeat written in her features.

Lexa nods once, features blank once again, and turns as Zorin re-enters the tent.

“Do not try my patience,” she warns Clarke as Zorin hands Lexa a bowl of water.

“Breik em au,”  _ Free her, _ Lexa repeats to Zorin, as she herself raises the bowl to Clarke’s lips. 

Clarke thanks Lexa with her eyes as she drinks deeply. There is something in them that Lexa cannot place. The ice blue of her eyes seems to have softened to a warmer color in defeat. Hands freed by Zorin, Clarke takes the bowl from her hands. 

“Mochof,”  _ Thank you _ , Clarke says quietly. Lexa’s cheeks heat at the warm blue in Clarke’s eyes, remembering the kiss they shared before they went to war with the Mountain Men. But those eyes are not the eyes of the Clarke she knows, the Skai Prisa. She swallows and adopts the tone of the Commander.

“Zorin will bring you a bedroll and food. You may rest while we prepare to depart. You are not to leave,” Lexa explains, warning Clarke with a flash of her eyes.

“I understand,” Clarke says, bowing her head in acquiescence.

Lexa looks at her as though expecting a trick, before nodding her head once more, and leaving the tent with a quiet, “Jova, prisa.”  _ Courage, princess. _

Clarke says nothing as Zorin exits the tent behind her, speaking with another guard who walks off before taking up a position at the entrance. Clarke sighs, exhausted, and lays down, asleep before the guard Zorin sent for food can return.


	4. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep - or not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty Clexa goodness.

Lexa was biting her lip, standing in front of a prone Clarke. She had entered the tent silently, unannounced by any guard. Clarke lay upon her bedroll on the ground, rolling over to look up at her in sleepy confusion. 

“Lexa?” Clarke asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Clarke, I -” Lexa swallowed.

“Lexa, what is it? Is everything alright?” Clarke, attempting to stand, didn’t notice the worry she allowed to creep into her voice.

Still half asleep, Clarke stumbled over to stand before the taller brunette. A wan ray of moonlight through the tent flap threw Lexa’s features into shadow, silhouetting her trim form and her strong jawline, taut with indecision. Clarke’s loins ached slightly as she took in the sight. 

Clarke opened her mouth to ask Lexa what was wrong again, but Lexa had placed her finger softly against Clarke’s lips. The deep pools of Lexa’s green eyes bored into Clarke from the shadows. Clarke knew immediately then why Lexa had come. She found she had no defense against Lexa’s commanding eyes. She found herself obeying the silent request without question, caught off guard.

Lexa’s demeanor had changed from one of trepidation to boldness. Clarke could see it in the determination that sparked from her eyes, still boring into her very soul with that deeply enveloping wave of green.

Without another moment to question what the hell Lexa was playing at, Lexa’s lips crashed into hers, bruising in their intensity.

Clarke’s gasp of surprise was swallowed whole by Lexa’s hungry lips as they continued to take bites of Clarke’s. Lexa’s hands reached around, grasping the back of Clarke’s head to pull her lips ever closer to her, and pulling at the small of her back, pressing Clarke’s soft and sleep-lazy form fully against her own. 

Clarke couldn’t stop herself. She moaned throatily, unable to prevent the sound from escaping her mouth. Lexa’s body fit perfectly, supple curves and soft edges molding perfectly into her own.

Lexa’s fingers tangled into Clarke’s blonde locks, and she growled in appreciation. The animalistic sound had an immediate effect on Clarke, and she felt an insistent throb coming from deep within.

Lexa’s unrelenting kisses began to slow and she looked Clarke once again in the eye. Clarke, no longer sleepy, and anxious to continue the contact, returned Lexa’s unnerving appraisal with raised chin. Swallowing, Clarke shook off her remaining apprehension.

“Command me, Heda.” Clarke said, cheeks flushed and breathing shallow, eyes locked on Lexa’s.

Lexa growled, deeper this time, to cover up the small whimper that she could not stifle. She dropped her head to whisk Clarke off of her feet and into her arms. The sudden lack of solid ground beneath Clarke was fleeting, as Lexa brought them both to her fur-laden bedroll.

Lexa didn’t waste time with words, pulling off her’s and Clarke’s boots with impatience. She then moved on to ripping off her pants and shirt, and helping Clarke to do the same. 

She lay down before Clarke, indicating Clarke should kneel in front of her.

“Hodnes laik uf.” _ Love is strength _ , Lexa said, eyes dark and smoldering with want, as she guided Clarke’s head, with her hand on the back of her neck, towards the center of her heat, eyes locked with hers the whole way. Clarke allowed herself to be directed, following the pull of her Commander’s insistent hand.

She lowered her mouth to the center of the Commander’s wetness, hesitant at first, but quickly losing her inhibitions. Lexa moaned her appreciation, encouraging Clarke with a slight pull at the back of her head.

Soon Lexa was riding Clarke’s face, Clarke’s tongue working wildly to keep up the frenetic pace. The Commander’s emphatic moans only spurred Clarke on ever faster. 

Clarke could feel the Commander’s muscles begin to tighten, could feel her reaching the crest of her ecstasy, when suddenly the Commander called out, “Clarke!” as her already taut muscles contracted in release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for continuing to read! I hope you are enjoying it :) . Next chapter will be quite a bit longer than the previous ones. Clarke continues to be a pain in Lexa's ass.


	5. Traveling With the Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa begin their journey, and Lexa tries to show Clarke that happiness is not dependent on the decisions they've made for their peoples' survival. Clarke doesn't react well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone who's stuck with the story. I will try to get the last few chapters up before Season 3 starts on Thursday! Feedback is always appreciated :)

Clarke wakes to Zorin lifting the flap of the tent and grunting at her in deeply accented English, “The Commander prepares to depart. There is food for you.”

Clarke snaps awake, eyes wide and surprised at her abrupt wakefulness. She can feel a small pool of wetness that makes itself immediately apparent beneath the furs of her bedroll as she sits up. The other guard had returned after she fell asleep, and she had sleepily undressed and crawled into the blessedly warm furs. Now they were much too hot.

A dream? All of that had been a _dream?_ Clarke blushes furiously, trying and failing to remove from her head an image of Lexa’s deep green eyes staring down at her as she lowers her head…

Clarke shakes herself, pale cheeks burning crimson. She growls in frustration, cursing her subconscious for giving her such a realistic dream to cope with this early in the morning prior to having to travel with Lexa.

She rolls out of her furs, body tensing at the chill air. Her nipples immediately harden, bringing to mind the Commander’s tongue as she gives her an order…

“Arghhh,” Clarke grumbles, shaking herself, as she roughly pulls on one boot and then another, dressing herself quickly.

“Skai Prisa? Are you alright?” Zorin sticks his head into the tent, a purple-green bruise spreading across his left eye.

“I’m fine.” Clarke mutters irritably, standing to meet the warrior at the tent flap, “You mentioned food?”

Zorin sets off across the camp, indicating that Clarke should follow. He brings Clarke to a larger tent with a table set out, covered in bowls of berries and nuts, water and bread.

Clarke looks at the food with little satisfaction. Food is a hassle. A necessary evil of survival. If her stomach wasn’t growling at her in protest, she would forego breakfast altogether. As it is, Zorin is looking at her as though she might bite him instead of the food. She smirks to herself. She does nothing to dispel his obvious discomfort at being tasked to guard her as she heads to the table and takes a small portion of berries.

As Clarke begins to chew slowly, Lexa bursts into the tent, dark riding cloak billowing behind her. Clarke turns from the table to look, taking in the sight of Lexa’s high collar and surprisingly low neckline.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, slightly breathless from some unknown exertion, “How did you sleep?”

Eyes shifting abruptly north back up to Lexa’s eyes at her innocent enough question, Clarke chokes on the berry she is chewing, coughing and spluttering for air.

Zorin rises to the occasion, approaching Clarke and pounding on her back until Clarke finally chokes out the guilty berry.

Breathing heavily, Clarke wipes at her mouth, looking up sheepishly at Lexa. Lexa with her cheeks flushed from the wind, a bit out of breath and looking at her with slight concern in her eyes. Clarke gulps.

“Fine, um. I slept fine, thank you,” she manages to get out in a hoarse voice. Zorin backs up, looking satisfied for having assisted her in the presence of his Heda.

Lexa smiles kindly then, surprising Clarke, “Are you ready to go?”

Clarke, confused at the smile, nods mutely, leaving the unfinished berries in her palm on the table and following Lexa as she turns on her heel back out of the tent.

Outside they find Lexa’s dark bay pawing at the ground impatiently, already breathing heavily from the run that must have taken Lexa’s breath as well.

Three guards are mounted on horses surrounding Lexa’s. The horses are restless and ready to be off. One of the guards holds the reins to a smoky black and a chestnut. Zorin, exiting the tent behind the two women, strides around Clarke to mount the chestnut.

The horses are saddled and well-provisioned, saddle bags bursting with supplies, furs, and bedrolls. The horses carrying the grounder guards are also outfitted with various and sundry weapons hanging from straps and sheaths. Clarke can see that Lexa’s guard is well-armed.

Warily, Clarke looks to Lexa. Although the smile is gone, Clarke can sense something just below the surface. An excitement that she has never seen in Lexa. Lexa nods to her, mounting her dark bay and looking to Clarke to mount her own steed.

Clarke does so without preamble, trying to ignore Lexa’s eyes on her. Trying not to think about how nice a smile Lexa has.

“Teik ai gon trigeda!” _Take me to the forest!_ Lexa shouts suddenly, eyes burning with excitement.

Two of the guards rush ahead, horses at a full gallop. Lexa follows, kicking her mare into a fast canter. Clarke struggles to keep up, with Zorin and the other guard taking up position in the rear.

They fly out of the camp, Clarke struggling to keep her seat while rushing headlong after Lexa. She follows Lexa and her guards for about a mile until the horses begin to tire, and Lexa finally slows to a trot as they enter the outskirts of the forest.

Clarke brings her black astride of Lexa’s dark bay, hearing something that she never thought she would.

Laughter.

Lexa, Commander of the twelve clans, is laughing. Clarke’s eyes widen in surprise, caught completely off guard.

They continue to trot alongside each other in silence, Clarke unwilling to break it, and Lexa content to enjoy the ride.

 

 

 

After passing the morning and many miles through the trees without speaking, Lexa finally breaks the silence, as if they had not already been riding for hours.

“It was Anya who taught me to ride,” she says, with that unnervingly un-Lexa-like smile, as their two horses walk along side by side, “And she would always scold me for leaving camp at a full gallop.”

The horses continue to walk, Clarke not responding. Faced with Clarke’s indifference, Lexa decides to continue.

“She always said that to tire your mount for no reason other than the joy of feeling the wind on your face is foolish, stupid, and dangerous. That to do so is to invite an attack,” Lexa explains, “She would ambush me when I would do this. And teach me a lesson.”

Clarke finally breaks her silence to cough out a chuckle. She growls out a response, voice gravelly from lack of use throughout the morning, “I find it hard to believe that anyone could teach the Commander a lesson, and I’ve _been_ on Anya’s bad side.

Lexa smiles cryptically, “This was before I became the Commander, of course,” as though that explains everything.

“But even Anya would not be able to stop the Commander from enjoying the wind on her face. Not in times of peace,” Lexa says with, if Clarke is not mistaken, wistfulness.

Clarke eyes Lexa from the side, trying not to stare. Was it her, or was this a totally different Lexa from the one she knew?

Her old antagonism begins to rise up in her throat. The anger of betrayal and the hurt of being left alone at the Mountain. She doesn’t try to stem the tide of seething anger.

“How can you be so carefree, Lexa?”  Clarke demands, turning fully in the saddle to look at Lexa, eyes flashing and cheeks reddening.

Lexa’s cheeks, softened by her lighthearted reminiscing, harden into sharp lines. Her jaw clenches. She had been waiting for this.

“I suffer for my people so that they might live in peace,” Lexa says coldly, “And when I receive the rare opportunity to enjoy the fruits of my labor, I take full advantage. I cannot afford to regret the things that I have done, Skai Prisa, because I know that I will be called upon to do so again.”

“So how easy is it for you, Lexa? To murder. And kill. And destroy for your people?” Clarke asks, voice rising by the minute, “How easy is it for you to ignore the dead?”

Lexa struggles within herself, feeling defensive and retaliatory. But she knows that Clarke is not in her right mind. Knows that Clarke needs compassion, not empty threats.

“You once taught me that life should be about more than just survival, Clarke,” Lexa begins in a low voice, “And despite myself, and regardless of what happened on the Mountain, I have begun to learn how to see the world with that hope.”

Lexa looks down, not able to look Clarke in the eyes, “It was you who made me see that feelings are not weakness, but strength. They are what we fight for when we defend our people. What you did? Clarke, what you did at the Mountain was strength, not weakness,” finally Lexa looks up at Clarke, holding her gaze.

“What I did at the Mountain was the only choice I was left with,” Clarke says coldly, looking back at Lexa with challenge written all over her face, “I did what I did because of _you_. I am a monster because of you!”

Lexa blinks at the accusal, not knowing how to respond. Clarke, however, doesn’t give her the opportunity. Clarke wheels her mount, turning west. Before Lexa can react, she is galloping off.

With a surge of panic, Lexa realizes that the sea bluffs are not far to the west. From where they are, it is less than half a mile. She struggles to rein her mount after her, spooked as it is by its partner’s sudden change in speed and direction. Glimpsing Clarke and her mount sprinting through the trees ahead of her, and fearing Clarke’s intentions, she gives her bay its head.


	6. Backslide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa is pissed. Clarke is confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: attempted suicide, animal death, physical violence.

As Lexa’s horse sprints after Clarke’s, Lexa puts her fingers to her lips and whistles a sharp, shrill note, to call her guards to her side.

Lexa can hear her horse’s hooves pounding in her ears, beat by beat. She crouches low in the saddle, willing her body to ride every crest and fall of the horse’s gait fluidly, without extra motion.

She envisions speed, urging the horse to push ever harder. She can see Clarke up ahead, a few hundred yards from where she knows the cliff edge awaits. She can see an opening. A small chance. She points her horse directly in the path that will allow her to intercept Clarke. The horse surges at the nearness of their target.

She is a dozen yards away. She can see Clarke’s face lose its determination, taking on a softer, relaxed look. With a yell, Lexa leaps from her saddle, tackling Clarke from the side, knocking her off of her horse. The poor black continues its headlong course, flying over the edge of the cliff only moments after it’s rider is unseated.

Even before they hit the ground, Clarke is fighting her. She is throwing angry fists, catching Lexa unaware before she realizes what is happening. Lexa lands atop her, hard, on the ground. She raises her arms to ward off Clarke’s attack from below, sneaking underneath Clarke’s offensive moves and retaliating.

Clarke shifts her hips, flipping them over, again pummeling her fists towards Lexa’s face. Lexa, realizing she can only defend so long, lashes out at Clarke’s abdomen, picking weak spots to target and attacking with her full force.

Clarke is thrown to the side, wind knocked out of her, unable to catch her breath. As Lexa stands and prepares to attack again, two of her guards rush in to grab Clarke’s arms and restrain her.

Lexa is breathing heavily, her lip split and a bruise spreading across her cheek. Clarke’s face is bloody, cuts across her face from branches ignored in her mad dash.

“Hod em,” _Hold her_ , Lexa says, angry voice that of the Commander.

She spits blood from her mouth, swiping a forearm across her face. She approaches Clarke, jaw clenched, fire burning feverishly in her eyes.

She stands in front of Clarke as the guards kick her legs from behind, dropping her to her knees. Clarke exhales roughly. They hold her there for their Commander.

“I thought you had more honor, Clarke of the Sky People,” Lexa says, biting the words out with venom. She is fuming, trying to contain her growing anger as she stands before the blonde.

“I thought you had more fight in you than a coward’s death,” Lexa enunciates the word, shaking her head, and gestures to her guards.

They lift Clarke up to her feet, forcing her roughly over to where the horses stand waiting. Lexa’s horse had circled around, now standing with the others.

“You have a choice again, Clarke,” Lexa says, walking over to the horses, “Since you’ve killed your mount, you can ride with me, or you can ride with Cyra,” she indicates one of the guards holding Clarke’s elbow.

Clarke looks Lexa up and down, disgust plain on her face. She spits on the ground at Lexa’s feet, raising her chin and refusing to answer.

Lexa’s upper lip rises ever so slightly in a silent snarl, “Very well. Cyra.”

The guards help Clarke mount Cyra’s horse, tying her wrists tightly to the saddle’s pommel. Cyra mounts up behind her. Lexa, Zorin, and the other two guards mount up, with Zorin and one guard falling behind Cyra and Clarke, and the other guard and Lexa taking the lead.

“I do not know why the Commander wastes her time with you,” Cyra says in a low voice in Clarke’s ear, “I would have let you run off the cliff and been done with you.”

Clarke ignores Cyra’s comments, looking stolidly ahead.

“If you continue to try her patience, maybe she will kill you herself,” Cyra muses, thoughtful.

“Don’t count on it,” Clarke finally says.

Clarke can sense Cyra smile from behind her, “You haven’t known the Commander very long. She doesn’t usually bring anyone back to Polis.”

“Polis?” Clarke asks, trying to turn in the saddle, but is stopped short by the ropes binding her hands.

Cyra laughs, a harsh, short bark, “She didn’t tell you we’re going to the Capitol? Hmm. Perhaps you’re not that special after all.”  

Clarke turns back forward, eyes cast far ahead. Polis. So that is where they are going. She had wondered where Lexa was taking her, but she didn’t think it overly important. Her thoughts had been consumed with the end of this journey. She had not forgotten Lexa’s invitation to Polis. But she had thought it for so long as one of Lexa’s schemes to gain her trust.

Cyra grunts in disgust, sniffing the air and making a face, “I thought you Sky People took hygiene more seriously? You smell like you haven’t bathed in weeks.”

Clarke ignores the grounder, concentrating on the horse’s gait below her. With her wrists tied to the pommel, it is uncomfortable to ride. Clarke wonders if Lexa had truly intended for her to join her in Polis. Cyra had said the Commander didn’t usually bring people back to Polis. What was that supposed to mean?

Cyra continues to make comments on Clarke’s hygiene, or lack thereof, as the group follows a well-worn path through the forest. As the day goes on, they pause briefly for lunch aside a trickling stream, and cross over into a moss-covered section of the forest.

Cyra continues to complain and goad Clarke as they continue on their way. Clarke is beginning to think that Lexa giving her a choice of rider was more evil than she gave her credit for, when Cyra’s horse enters a clearing. Lexa and her guard are dismounted and preparing camp. Cyra dismounts to assist them, tying her horse to a tree and leaving Clarke tied to the saddle.

Clarke says nothing as the group sets up camp, Zorin and his fellow guard entering the clearing not long after they do and dismounting to assist as well. Lexa is less like the Commander than Clarke has ever seen her around fellow grounders. She gives no orders, merely assisting where needed and doing what is needed to set up their camp. The guards still look to her every so often, receiving a nod or a shake of the head in answer. There is something oddly calming about Lexa simply being another grounder.

Clarke is surprised when one of the grounder guards approaches her to assist her out of the saddle. She says nothing, merely gives Clarke a warning look as she unbinds her wrists. She rebinds the cords once Clarke has dismounted, and brings her over to a small fire one of the guards had started. She sits her down next to it, and walks off.

She soon returns with a small rucksack from which she pulls a sort of cream. Sitting down next to her, Clarke is surprised when the woman begins to examine the cuts on her face, applying the cream where the cuts are deepest. Clarke is not expecting the woman’s tenderness, yet her fingers brush her cheeks lightly, as though highly aware of the tenderness of the cuts. Clarke realizes she expected rougher treatment from a grounder.

“Phalia is a healer,” Lexa’s sudden voice behind her startles Clarke out of her reverie, “Before she became one of the Commander’s personal guard, she cared for many grounders.”

Clarke does not know what to say to Lexa, so she directs her words at Phalia, who has finished tending her cuts, instead, “Mochof, Phalia.” _Thank you, Phalia_.

Phalia doesn’t respond to Clarke’s thanks. Lexa, still behind her, says, “Adelson and Cyra have gone hunting. There is a bedroll for you here next to the fire, Clarke.”

Clarke is surprised to find no venom in Lexa’s voice. She turns to look at Lexa, but she is already walking toward her own bundle of furs several yards away. Phalia follows her, caring for her Commander’s wounds in turn.

Clarke’s rises to settle back down at the bedroll that Lexa had indicated. She notices Zorin stirring behind her. She should have known Lexa would not leave Clarke unwatched. She supposes she does not blame her. She had let her emotions carry her away today. She had given in once again to her desires to be rid of this painful existence. And since Lexa had saved her, she couldn’t help but wonder what she intended? Why did Lexa insist on keeping her alive, even placing herself in danger to prevent her death?

Clarke did not understand. Lexa had betrayed her. It was because of Lexa that she was forced to kill everyone in the Mountain. And Clarke had tried to kill her. Why was the Commander showing her, of all people, mercy?

Clarke stared deeply into the fire, thoughts racing with questions that had no answers. She didn’t notice Lexa staring at her as Phalia tended to her split lip.

“Heda, not all illnesses heal,” Phalia whispers quietly to her Commander. Lexa nods solemnly in response, keeping her face forward so that Phalia could continue her ministrations.

“That is true, Phalia. But as Commander, ai gonplei nou ste odon nowe,” _My fight is never over_ , Lexa reminds her, “Clarke has forgotten that she is a commander of her people.”

Phalia says nothing to refute her Commander, merely nodding in agreement, “Do not forget, Commander, that you are a commander of yours.”

Lexa smiles at Phalia’s words, dismissing her with a gesture. Phalia takes her leave to attend to various other tasks around camp.

Lexa ponders her words, still looking at Clarke across the fire, watching as the blonde succumbs to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do my best to update as I finish chapters from here until the end! Only a few left to go. Thanks for sticking with the story :)


	7. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: PTSD, flashbacks, panic attacks

Lexa watches the rise and fall of Clarke’s chest from across the fire. Cyra and Adelson had returned from their hunt with several hares. They had gutted and roasted the animals over the fire, adding the fresh meat to their dry provisions for dinner.

Clarke had awoken enough to eat something, although it was significantly less than Lexa thought she needed. Soon after, she had fallen back into a deep sleep.

Lexa is struck by the calm in Clarke’s features as she breathes in and out in sleep. How can someone as peaceful and calm as this blonde beauty before her want to take their own life? 

Lexa is still angry. She is frustrated by Clarke’s continued desire to kill herself. She knows that Clarke has been through a lot. But she also knows that Clarke is better than this. She wants to remind Clarke of her own strength.

The hardest choice that Lexa had ever had to make for her people was betraying Clarke. It hurt her more than she would ever admit to make that choice for her people. But she would not apologize for doing what she must. And then, to make matters worse, Clarke had done what Lexa, the Commander of the Twelve Clans, had been unable to do. She had beaten the Mountain Men. Not only beaten them, but wiped them out entirely. She had made a decision, just like Lexa. And she had done it without Lexa and the grounders’ help.

Lexa knows that she and Clarke, as commanders of their people, must make the decisions that others can’t or won’t make. But it is Clarke who helped Lexa realize that those choices did not mean that they must sacrifice their own lives. That they deserved something better than merely surviving.

The way the fire dances across Clarke’s features as she sleeps gives her a softness that Lexa hasn’t seen before. It reminds her of before the Mountain. Of the pauna,  _ gorilla _ , that had nearly killed her and Clarke. How Clarke had told her that they were not going to die. How she had told her that she needed her spirit to stay right where it was. 

Lexa smiled at the memory, reliving the feeling of the passion and the vitality in Clarke’s eyes. She knew what Clarke saw in Lexa’s eyes now. Knew that her face reminded her of all that had happened since, from her betrayal, to what had transpired within the Mountain after Lexa and the grounders had left. 

There had to be some way to reach her. Some way to make her see that Lexa needed her more than she dared to admit.

As Lexa agonized over her emotions, she notices a hitch in Clarke’s breathing. She sits up, seeing Clarke’s eyes rolling beneath her eyelids. She is breathing more heavily now, and sweat breaks out on her brow. Lexa hears soft moans, growing louder by the second. She stands, hurrying to Clarke’s side, anger evaporating. 

Before she reaches her, Clarke looses a scream, thrashing around on the ground, mumbling unintelligibly. 

“Clarke!” Lexa yells, rushing to kneel beside her, “Clarke, you’re safe! it’s just a dream! Wake up!”

Clarke continues to moan, turning from side to side, still muttering words Lexa can’t quite make out. 

Lexa starts to reach out for Clarke but then thinks better of it, placing her hand back on her knee.  She wants to comfort Clarke but she isn't sure if Clarke would like her to do so. Lexa freezes, unsure of how to proceed.

The mutterings become clear, suddenly, in abrupt, staccato phrases, “You  _ are _ my people. I didn’t want this! I have to save them. Lexa, don’t do this!” 

Clarke continues to speak, bound hands flailing through the air. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Lexa finally takes action. Grabbing her bound hands, she holds them to Clarke’s chest. She places her hand softly on Clarke’s cheek, lowering her face so that she is inches from Clarke’s. 

“Clarke. You are safe,” she whispers into Clarke’s ear emphatically, trying to convey safety and security in her voice, “No one is trying to hurt you.” 

Clarke cries out suddenly, eyes flying open, and she sits up quickly. Her tears are immediate and unstoppable. Her entire body is wracked with sobs, pupils dilated and eyes full of fear, tears rushing down her cheeks.

Without a second thought, Lexa wraps Clarke within her embrace, holding her head to her chest.

“Shhh,” she murmurs, running a hand through Clarke’s tangled locks of hair, “It’s over. It was just a dream.”  

Clarke’s sobs continue, held at bay for too long. Clarke doesn’t seem to realize where she is or who is holding her. Her tears fall and fall, a stream of pain and fear and guilt.

Lexa holds her through it all, never once questioning whether she should do so, just knowing that it is where she needs to be. 

As Clarke’s tears begin to subside, it is as though she realizes suddenly where she is and whose arms are wrapped around her. She freezes, tensing. Lexa doesn’t dare to breath, not wanting the contact to end.

As quickly as it happens, the moment passes, and Clarke relaxes into Lexa’s soft form, sighing in exhaustion. She feels safe, for the first time that she can remember since landing upon the ground. No one is trying to kill her except the demons in her head, but she has strong arms around her to keep her safe. She settles into a deep sleep, Lexa slowly lowering them both to a more comfortable position, but refusing to let the blonde go.

Lexa’s guards take turns at watch throughout the night, ensuring that their Commander and the Skai Prisa remain undisturbed. At first light, Lexa wakes, and wonders for a moment why her arms feel so leaden. She realizes that her arms are still wrapped around Clarke’s sleeping form. Surprised but not displeased, she slowly extricates herself from the blonde, pulling a fur up to Clarke’s chin before standing.

She notices Cyra staring at her from several yards off. Rather than wake Clarke with her voice, Lexa walks quietly over to her guard before speaking.

“You have something to say, Cyra?” Lexa questions, using the voice of the Commander.

“She needs a bath, Heda” _ Commander _ , Cyra says with no hint of mockery, “Particularly if she is going to be sharing your bedroll.” 

Lexa, far from being embarrassed, nods thoughtfully, “Yes. We shall stop at the hot springs before continuing on to Polis. And Cyra?”

“Sha, Heda?”  _ Yes, Commander? _

“Shil em op,” _Protect her_ , Lexa says quietly, “Osir keryon ste teina.” _Our souls are intertwined._

Cyra raises her eyebrows in surprise, recognizing the traditional phrase. Her visage sobers up, daring to look the Commander in the eye, “Em sonraun laik ai sonraun,”  _ Her life is my life. _

Cyra bows to her Commander and takes up a position a few yards from Clarke, as Lexa goes to prepare the horses for their detour to the hot springs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I forgot to tag or add a trigger warning for something, please let me know and I will add/fix it ASAP! We're getting close to the finish line. Thanks for reading :)


	8. The Hot Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa finally give in to their desires, if only for a little while...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand and one apologies for not posting before the premiere! Life got in the way, unfortunately. To make up for it, an extra long chapter chock full of Clexa smut, followed by the final chapter as soon as I am able to wrap it up. Thank you again, to everyone who's stuck with the story. I hope you continue to enjoy it! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated :)
> 
> Extra extra EXTRA special thanks to lostkate815 over on Tumblr. She betas, she writes, she improves, she basically keeps me sane, and she helped make this story happen - this chapter in particular. Thank you, my friend! :)

Clarke blinks open swollen eyes, blearily trying to recall falling asleep. All she remembers is warm arms wrapped around her, feeling safe, and finally succumbing to exhaustion. She was used to feeling exhausted. But she hadn’t felt safe for what felt like an eternity. 

Without being too obvious, Clarke peeks about the camp, looking around to see who else is there. She is disappointed however, to find only Cyra sitting by the smoldering fire. Lexa and the other guards are nowhere in sight. Noticing Clarke’s wakefulness, Cyra stands, stretching her muscles.

“We are taking a detour today at the Commander’s orders. Prepare to leave,” Cyra says without preamble, walking over to her horse on the other side of the camp and cinching saddle straps, untying the horse and bringing it over towards Clarke. Clarke notices that the saddlebags are empty. 

“Are we going far?” Clarke asks, genuinely curious.

“No,” Cyra replies simply, then hesitates, giving Clarke a strange look, and says, “Give me your hands.”

Clarke, suspicious, complies.

Cyra unbinds Clarke’s wrists, allowing the blood to flow once again. Clarke rubs her wrists to get the feeling back into them, looking at Cyra oddly. 

Cyra gestures brusquely towards the horse, indicating Clarke should mount. Clarke does so, reveling at the feeling of having the use of her hands back. Cyra mounts up behind her, controlling the horse’s prancing and nudging them out of the clearing.

They travel several miles along a dirt track, overgrown with weeds and looking like hardly more than a deer trail. Just as Clarke is about to ask Cyra how much farther, they reach a bend in the trail that leads them into a wide, rocky bowl. Before them, dozens of feet across, is a pool of water with steam rising from it. On one side, smooth rock wall is broken only by a small alcove. On the other, thick tree limbs branch out in all directions, dampening sounds of the outside world.

From the alcove, Clarke can hear water lapping against stone. Cyra dismounts, indicating that Clarke should follow suit. She jerks her head towards the water before them, taking a small bundle out of the saddlebags that Clarke hadn’t noticed. Clarke turns toward the water, then turns to look back at Cyra. Cyra places the bundle to the side of the trail before mounting back up. 

“I will be near if you or the Commander has need of me,” Cyra says, then gently kicks the horse, leaving Clarke standing there dumbfounded as she rides away.

Turning again to face the pool of water, Clarke hears Lexa’s voice float through the thick air, “Clarke?”

Lexa comes out from the alcove in the wall, wading through the water towards her. Clarke does not know how to react as the Commander approaches her through the water, lacking any discernible clothing.

“I thought that you might enjoy a bath,” Lexa says, unfazed by her own nakedness, “So I asked Cyra to escort you here. Shall I give you some privacy?”

Lexa looks at Clarke questioningly, concerned when Clarke does not answer.

“I - you -” Clarke tries to say, fumbling over words, finally chuckling at herself, “I’ve never had a bath before. There wasn’t enough water on the Ark for baths.”

Lexa smiles, spreading her arms wide and nearly giving Clarke apoplexy at the view she receives, “As you can see there is plenty of water here.”

Clarke nods, trying to remind herself that grounder culture is likely a good deal less concerned with bodily modesty than those on the Ark would.

Swallowing her slight discomfort, Clarke begins to undress, not missing Lexa’s eyes on her. She blushes, staring in turn, as she wonders if she will be able to get used to seeing the Commander naked.

Lexa is impressed by Clarke’s body. Although covered with layers of sweat and grime, Lexa can discern so few scars on Clarke’s body that it fascinates her. Lexa’s own is a crisscrossing map of scars from battles lost and won, tattoos spiraling across her upper arms, muscles hard and corded from daily use. As opposed to Clarke, despite several fresh scars from her time on the ground, whose body still retains some of the softness and paleness of a life in orbit on the Ark.

As Clarke steps lightly into the water, she shivers from the thrill of the warmth on her feet. She hurries in the rest of the way, moaning as the hot water relaxes all of the muscles in her body. Suddenly, she feels every inch of the grime, from months of hard travel and hunting. She is embarrassed to be there in front of Lexa, recognizing that she must look a sight, with cuts all over her face and bruises all over her unwashed body.

Lexa smiles kindly, as if guessing Clarke’s thoughts. Clarke is unnerved by Lexa’s smile. She is still not used to this more relaxed Lexa. Clarke attempts to start scrubbing her fingernails, and is surprised when Lexa approaches. 

“May I?” Lexa asks, gently touching Clarke’s hair from behind. Clarke stills, letting her hands float in the water.

“Umm. Yea. Sure,” she says, not quite knowing how to react. Lexa fingers begin to flow through Clarke’s hair as she leans Clarke’s head back, rinsing the warm water of the spring through each tangled lock. 

Clarke, for her part, does her best to relax as Lexa washes her hair. She lets go of the tension pulling at her shoulders, attempting to loosen her rigid jaw. She takes steady breaths in and out, clearing her mind, focusing on the sounds of the water lapping and leaves in the trees blowing.  

As Lexa finishes with Clarke’s hair, her hands unexpectedly move to Clarke’s shoulders, scrubbing away the accumulated filth and kneading the knotted muscles. Clarke doesn’t tell her to stop as she moans again, tight muscles crying out in release at the massaging of Lexa’s strong fingers. Lexa spreads further down Clarke’s back and arms as Clarke leans further into her touch, entirely unaware of the outside world. She feels that feeling again - safety. It feels so strange.

Clarke’s mind is racing while her body submits to the pleasure of the spring. How can Lexa be so tender? Is she not still angry with Clarke? How can Clarke possibly deserve such treatment after the things she has done?

Clarke’s train of thought is broken as Lexa leans in close behind her. She can just barely feel the press of Lexa’s very naked body on her back. 

“Life is about more than just surviving,” Lexa says in a breathy whisper near Clarke’s ear, pushing further into her and igniting a heat inside of her. 

Lexa’s repeating of Clarke’s own words back to her makes Clarke’s breath hitch, and she realizes how much she craves Lexa’s skin. She leans back searching for more contact.  She can feel Lexa’s hardened nipples just below her shoulder blades.  

Lexa’s hands reach around Clarke, encircling her. Clarke takes one of Lexa’s hands in hers and guides it down her stomach, the motion tugging Lexa ever so slightly more into Clarke. She can hear Lexa’s shuddering breath as she moves her hand further down her body.

Lexa and Clarke both try to control their breathing but nothing seems to have prepared their bodies for their reactions to each other. Lexa’s blood is pumping through her veins, heartbeat loud in her ears. Clarke’s heart races like her horse’s hooves had beat yesterday on the dirt floor of the forest.

Clarke’s hand still lightly grasps Lexa’s, her thumb gently caressing the top of Lexa’s hand.  Then there is a pause, the water ripples around them, as each waits for the other to make the next move.  Clarke has gotten them this far.  Lexa knows what she wants, but swallows, unsure.  She wants to make sure Clarke wants this for the right reasons.  

Ever since Lexa’s laid eyes on her all those months ago, she knew Clarke was different. And not just because she came from the sky.  She took Lexa’s breath away at first sight and then took her heart shortly after.  She and Clarke have grown and changed since their first meeting. The one thing that hasn’t changed is Lexa’s desire for Clarke.  Lexa wants to worship Clarke’s body like the queen she knows she is. Lexa wants to see her come undone before her and because of her again and again.  

“Show me what you want, Clarke,” Lexa’s husky voice sends a shiver down Clarke’s spine, reverberating in her deepest sense of self.  

Clarke is now very aware of the growing heat between her thighs.  She can feel herself throbbing, and a slick wetness forming at just the thought of having Lexa touch her.

Clarke knows what she wants.  _ Lexa _ . 

Clarke glides Lexa’s hand lower, breathing erratic and nerves tingling as Lexa’s fingertips brush across her skin, leaving a trail of fire behind.  

Lexa tentatively moves her hand of her own accord, reaching lower until she reaches Clarke’s curls. With a gasp from Clarke and another throaty moan, Lexa takes the lead. She brings her other hand from Clarke’s hip across Clarke’s side, reaching around to grasp at Clarke’s full breast.  Clarke moves her hand from the water to the back of Lexa’s neck drawing her in.  

Lexa brings her lips down to Clarke’s neck, kissing softly at first, while she gently plays with Clarke’s nipple. Lexa is focused.  She wants to give Clarke a reprieve and only focus on the present, on the pleasure.  

She rests her lips on Clarke’s pulse point right behind her ear.  Clarke can’t hold back a small whimper as it escapes from her parted lips.

Lexa explores Clarke’s folds with her fingers, seeking out every inch of her. She starts a slow, steady rhythm with her right hand, drawing circles around Clarke’s clit.  Clarke can feel the intensity building deep within, and moans yet again at the flirting contact, bucking her hips slightly.  She wants  _ more _ .  More contact, more pressure from Lexa’s skating fingers.  

Lexa ignores Clarke’s bucking hips, continuing to excite Clarke with her circles. She slowly adjusts her rhythm to reach further down, exploring Clarke’s entrance with the tip of a finger. Clarke’s breathing hitches, and Lexa takes that as encouragement. While continuing to tease Clarke’s nipple, pinching and rolling it between her fingers, with her other hand Lexa inserts a finger to her knuckle, entering and exiting Clarke quickly, barely giving her a chance to experience the sensation. At the same time, she extends her tongue to Clarke’s neck, just barely tasting her with the tip of it, driving Clarke wild. She isn’t sure how much of these light and slow touches she can take.

The combination of the hot water against her skin and Lexa’s fingers pleasuring her makes Clarke’s breathing unsteady and erratic. The additional texture of Lexa’s tongue on her neck sends her brain over the edge. She needs more contact, and yet she cannot seem to voice that need. Her moans seem to only incite Lexa and her teasing. Frustrated, Clarke finally growls, spinning in the water, creating small waves that radiate outward away from the two of them.  

She has let go of whatever anger and resentment she holds so tightly wound. It is not forgotten, merely set aside. Clarke needs this release. She craves it. Lexa clearly wants it. And she is tired of Lexa’s teasing.  Clarke is ready to take charge.

Lexa’s eyes are surprised, so focused was she on touching Clarke, and Clarke takes full advantage. Pushing Lexa’s shoulders softly, she presses Lexa forward until her back is against the smooth rock wall.   The water is shallower here, and as the water level lowers on their bodies, water droplets sluice fluidly off of their chests back into the water. Lexa’s eyes drop downwards, taking in Clarke’s fully naked form as if for the first time.  Her chapped lips slightly parted, wet blonde hair cascading across her shoulders, leaving water droplets to flow down between her full breasts as they move up and down with each breath she takes.  Lexa thinks she is the most beautiful creature she has ever seen.  

Although Clarke is also enjoying the view, she does not allow them much time to do so, as she roughly kisses Lexa, pinning her against the wall.  Lexa can feel the hard surface against her back while Clarke’s soft form is pressed into her, chest to chest.  Clarke’s hands get lost in Lexa’s hair as she pulls her closer.  Lexa lets out a small gasp and Clarke takes this opportunity to slide her tongue past Lexa’s lips, which she welcomes, her own tongue darting out to mingle with Clarke’s.  The intensity of their kisses becomes bruising.  One of Lexa’s hands is tangled in blonde locks while the other scrapes from Clarke's shoulders down to her lower back, eliciting a moan from Clarke that Lexa can feel against her own lips.  This urges Lexa on. The hand that had come to rest on Clarke’s hip makes its way to her ass. Pulling her hips, their bodies press impossibly further into each other, trying to get closer, trying to express what they can’t seem to find the words for.

Lexa, sensing some of what Clarke is thinking, quietly murmurs between kisses, “I  _ need _ you, Clarke.”

Without a word, Clarke shifts her stance, placing one of Lexa’s legs directly between her thighs and starts to move with each kiss.  

Lexa, feeling Clarke’s heat sliding along her leg, nearly loses her balance. Clarke’s triceps flex, as she throws an arm to the wall to support them both.  Clarke drops her head towards Lexa’s shoulder, concentrating on shifting her weight forward and back. 

Clarke rides Lexa’s thigh breathlessly, gasping against Lexa’s neck as her clit comes into contact with Lexa’s hard muscle.  Lexa feels the contact and lets out her own gasp, sliding several inches down the wall as her knees weaken.  One of her hands comes up to clutch around Clarke’s shoulder, helping Lexa hold herself up, while the other stays on Clarke’s hip encouraging her movements.

As Clarke continues to ride Lexa’s leg, she reaches down towards the center of Lexa’s heat. She can feel how wet Lexa is from the first touch of her fingers.  Clarke decides to tease her in turn. Slowly circling her clit, Clarke briefly smiles at Lexa, before the devious look is wiped right off her face from her own grinding hips.  That last rocking motion left her tingling.  Harder and faster she starts to cant her hips into Lexa, wanting that feeling again. 

Impatient, Lexa grabs her wrist, directing her fingers to where she needs them most as the blonde continues her almost frantic pace along her hard leg muscles. Lexa’s stance is firm, now, ready. She pulls Clarke’s fingers into her as Clarke’s own muscles tingle in anticipation.

Slowing down the bucking of her hips, Clarke take a moment to focus more on Lexa.  She curls her fingers inside Lexa as she pumps her fingers, trying to find a rhythm.  She uses the leverage she gets from her own moving hips to thrust her fingers in and out of her while her palm rubs against Lexa’s clit. 

Lexa cries out in satisfaction as the pleasure builds and then bites down onto Clarke’s shoulder, leaving a purplish red mark in her wake.  Clarke can feel Lexa’s muscles begin to tighten around her fingers.  Clarke is also reaching the crest of her own pleasure. 

Lexa pulls her head back from Clarke’s shoulder to lock eyes with her.  Lexa wants to see the beauty that is Clarke Griffin come undone.  The look in Clarke’s eyes is almost enough for Lexa to come right then.  Her crystal blue eyes are holding dilated pupils filled with desire, and mixed with something Lexa can’t quite place. She looks exquisite.  

Lexa and Clarke both cry out in ecstasy, tightened muscles clenching in final release as Clarke slides one last time down Lexa’s leg. Lexa heaves breathlessly against the wall, pulling Clarke’s own breathless lips to hers and placing gentle kisses there. She pulls on Clarke’s wrist still in her grasp, leading Clarke over to the alcove.

Clarke allows Lexa to lead her, unable to protest even if she had wanted to. Lexa pulls Clarke gently into the alcove, into ever-deepening water. Inside is a raised platform covered in furs, surrounded on all sides by the gentle heat of the spring water. Along the wall is a niche that holds various vials full of liquid and herbs. 

Lexa grabs one of the vials and upturns some of the liquid into her hands. Clarke, still seemingly incapable of speech, says nothing as Lexa lathers and scrubs her body, brushing away all of the accumulated grime and grit of her travels.

Lexa is gentle and caring in her ministrations. She takes the time to ensure that Clarke’s skin is its original perfect ivory. As her hands slowly work out the dirt and the tension, Clarke’s eyes refocus and seem to awaken.

“Lexa, I -” Clarke begins to say, but Lexa cuts her off.

“You need say nothing, Skai Prisa. Please. Allow yourself to relax with me,” Lexa says, half-pleadingly.

Clarke stares at her for a few moments, finally bowing her head in acceptance.

Clarke clambers up onto the platform among the furs, Lexa watching from the depths of the water. 

“Aren’t you going to join-” Clarke begins, before Lexa cuts her off once again, with action this time rather than words.

Her hands each grasp one of Clarke’s thighs, spreading them apart as she brings her face closer.

“Oh,” is all Clarke manages to get out. Lexa smirks before burying her face in Clarke’s wet, and thoroughly cleaned, center. 


	9. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finally arrives in Polis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not updating sooner, dear readers! Unfortunately life sometimes gets in the way of writing. I hope that you enjoy these last two chapters, and thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Once again, a big thank you goes out to lostkate815 over on tumblr for all of her help with this, beginning to end. And a heartfelt hug to everyone experiencing the feels of all of these amazing Season 3 episodes we've been getting. Long live Clexa! :)

Clarke rides astride Lexa’s dark bay, Lexa’s nearness warming her back. Just behind and to their left rides Cyra. Adelson and Phalia are ahead, with Zorin trailing along further behind. 

They had ridden for several days after their pause at the hot spring. Clarke had not tried to kill herself again, but remained mostly silent. Lexa, for her part, had given Clarke her silence and space, albeit a mental space. They had ridden together and shared a bedroll since their joining at the spring. Clarke couldn’t say that she disliked the nearness they now enjoyed. However, she maintained her emotional distance from Lexa as much as possible. Her hurt was still too near the surface.

Despite Clarke’s hurt, she had been surprised by Lexa’s need for her. She had been surprised that the Commander truly felt anything for her at all. After her betrayal, Clarke had assumed that the woman’s advances had all been a part of some elaborate scheme to ultimately abandon her people. She had been surprised, certainly. And she had nearly pushed her away again. But she had been so tired of running from her desire. So tired of fighting against the desire to be with the one who had hurt her so much. She had simply never imagined that Lexa might feel the same.

She wished she could go back to the hot spring with Lexa and forget the real world for a bit longer.  Being with Lexa made her feel a bit more at peace.  Lexa understood her on a level that no one else possibly could. The decisions that they each had had to make for their people had changed them and would continue to change them. Lexa understood that Clarke could not undo the things that she had done. That they would always be there, dogging her every step. Making her doubt herself. She could not take back what she had done. But with Lexa...maybe she could begin to move on. 

So much had happened to Clarke. So much had happened to her people. The people she cared so much about. The people that she had committed genocide for in order to save. The faces of those in the mountain would haunt her forever. But the passage of their haunting was just ever so slightly more bearable when she was around Lexa.   

Clarke’s jumble of thoughts halts as Lexa reins in her horse. As Clarke raises her eyes to investigate their surroundings for the first time in hours, she is surprised to find a great valley laid out before them. 

Below them, nestled in the valley, lies a great city, sprawling and expansive. Haphazard streets and lazy wisps of smoke slowly trailing upwards add a busyness to the bustling streets full of people -  _ hundreds of people _ . Clarke quickly closes her gaping jaw when she senses Lexa smiling from behind her. 

At the center of the sprawling city rises a tower, soaring hundreds of feet higher than any other building. At the top of the tower is a pyre, a burning beacon of light in the slowly dimming dusk. 

From where they stand, Clarke can see the edges of the coastline, water lapping at wharves and docks in the distance, dozens of ships at anchor just offshore. The city is full of vitality, full of life. Clarke had known that Polis was the grounder capitol, but she had never expected...well. This.

The city had shaken Clarke from her troubled thoughts. She turned in the saddle to look at Lexa questioningly. 

“We have reached our destination, Clarke,” Lexa says simply, “Welcome to Polis.”

Clarke continues to look at Lexa with a strange expression on her face, not quite knowing what to say.

“So, I am free to go, then?” Clarke finally asks, swallowing around her dry mouth.

Lexa’s face, still holding a slight smile at Clarke’s reaction to the capitol, looks crestfallen at Clarke’s question. She schools her features, and her face is once again that of the Commander.

“Yes, Clarke. You are free to do with your life as you will,” Lexa states with no emotion in her voice, although Clarke can detect the emotion in her eyes. Lexa’s green oceans stare into Clarke’s blue, pleading with the Skai Prisa not to go.

Clarke, mouth still dry, considers Lexa’s words. She had come to kill her, originally. She had failed. And then...she did not know exactly what had transpired between them. Clearly, there was desire. Of that, there was little doubt. But Clarke could not erase the faces of those from the mountain. She could not erase the face of Lexa, warpaint and blood streaking her face, leaving her on the summit. The look in Lexa’s eyes begs her to reconsider what Lexa already knows to be her decision.

Clarke dismounts, swallowing hard. Lexa dismounts as well, turning to face her. 

“Clarke, there is a place for you here,” Lexa begins to say, but Clarke cuts her off.

“I - I’m still not ready,” Clarke says, pain evident in her eyes, “To be with anyone. Not yet. I - I don’t know how to be around anyone right now.”

Lexa is about to argue. To ask whether she can’t be around anyone, or just not around her. But she recognizes that Clarke needs to make her own decision. That Clarke must come willingly, or not at all. Because what would be the point, otherwise?

Lexa nods stoically, then, “Very well. We shall give you provisions.”

Clarke looks as though she will argue, then thinks better of it, inclining her head in appreciation, “Mochof, Lexa.”

The look in her eyes tells Lexa that Clarke truly means it. The guards assist Clarke in preparing a pack, and each give her a hand clasped to shoulder or a quietly muttered farewell. Poor Zorin still maintains a goodly distance from Clarke, simply inclining his head towards her in goodbye. Lexa swears she can see Clarke smirking as she turns back towards the forest with a waterskin and pack of dried food.

Clarke inclines her head toward Lexa, looking her deep in the eye before releasing a drawn breath and continuing to turn away.

“May we meet again, Clarke,” Lexa says suddenly, trying to hold Clarke’s gaze a moment longer. 

Clarke truly smiles, then, returning Lexa’s sentiment, “May we meet again, Lexa.”

Then Clarke does turn, hiking back over the crest of the hill upon which she had first seen Polis. Lexa watches her go, guards waiting for her order to mount up and continue on into the city. 

“Cyra,” Lexa says, eyes still on Clarke’s retreating blonde hair.

Cyra passes Adelson the reins to her horse and unclasps various packs and weapons from her saddle. She then approaches Lexa from behind. As Lexa turns to look at her, Cyra nods in understanding. Lexa nods in satisfaction before remounting, the other guards following her lead as she heads down the hill and into the Capitol, leaving Cyra behind.

  
  


After only the third day, Clarke knows that she is being followed. She had spent enough time hunting with Phalia and Adelson as they traveled to be able to pick up signs of it. She has a feeling she knows who follows her, but she finds herself wishing it were someone else. 

She has been unable to get Lexa out of her head. No longer the same tired thoughts of vengeance and anger, but those of longing and loneliness. She knows why she is being followed and it makes the hollow loneliness inside of her eat away ever more at her conscious thoughts. 

Clarke had forgotten what it felt like to sleep alone on the hard earth, rocks digging into her back, cold stars staring down at her from above. The fires that she makes do little to warm her, compared to the body that she had grown used to having pressed up against her in sleep. Whereas before, Clarke’s suffering had fed into her desire for vengeance and escape, now, her suffering felt like it was drowning her. 

She stifles a sob, wondering for the first time since reaching the ground if she would ever find a place here. She had spent so much time worrying about a place for her people that she had never stopped to think about a place for herself. Had never even imagined it. Even when her fledgling feelings for Lexa had kindled a small hope in her that there was more to live for than simply survival, she had never truly imagined a place for herself. She had thought only of whatever present situation that currently needed to be dealt with.

She did not even know where she was going. She still had no desire to return to Camp Jaha. What am I doing? Clarke thinks desperately, staring up into the calm night sky that provided no answer.

“You would be welcomed in Polis, Clarke kom Skaikru,”  _ Clarke of the Sky People _ , comes the voice of Cyra from the shadows beyond the firelight. 

Clarke, to her credit, does not jump at the grounder’s sudden voice. She had known she was out there, even if she hadn’t been able to see her. As Cyra steps into the firelight, Clarke imagines she sees a look of approval on the guard’s face.  

“You are a fool to torture yourself like this,” Cyra continues, settling cross-legged next to her.

“Lexa would probably agree with you,” Clarke responds with a wry smile, pretending that there are not several small tears tracking down her cheeks.

“You Sky People. You claim to want peace. And yet know not what to do with it when it is within your grasp. You see us as primitive and warlike, yet we know at least how to appreciate peace when we have it,” Cyra states with a bemused expression on her face.

Clarke cocks her head, thoughtful. She had never thought of it that way before. She had been fighting from almost the moment she reached the ground. She had barely had time to register Lexa’s betrayal at the Mountain before she was forced to make the choices she had made...and since then she had felt little peace in herself. But when she thinks about it, she realizes that her people had had peace for the first time thanks to her actions. Three months not fearing for their lives or running from demons. Just because she had not experienced it with them did not mean that it was not true.

With a tired sigh she says, “I suppose you’re right about that. Maybe I’m a fool after all.”

Cyra grunts and stands up with a snort, “You are a fool if you continue to sit here pining for the Commander.”

Clarke, surprised, tries to stutter an argument, “I’m not - !” 

Cyra interrupts her, “You cannot pretend not to be, Skai Prisa. You forget I have been traveling with you. I see the way you look at her. The way you relax when she is near. Why do you think she sent me to watch over you?”

Clarke quiets, unsure of what to say. Cyra nods as if encouraged by Clarke’s silence.

“Yes. She sent me to watch over the Skai Prisa who sits here like a wounded animal and does not grasp what everyone else can plainly see,” Cyra folds her arms across her breasts, giving Clarke a challenging stare.

Clarke swallows, embarrassed and uncomfortable, and not having any idea what to say in response. They sit there in silence, only the pop and crackle of the fire disturbing the quiet.

After a little while, as if coming to a decision, Clarke sets her jaw. She stands up abruptly, Cyra following her example with a suspicious look on her face.

Clarke bustles about the campfire, collecting her things and stuffing them haphazardly into her pack. Cyra stands stock still, not sure of her intentions.

Clarke douses the fire by kicking dirt into it, shuffling about to check that she collected everything. As she leaves the campsite, she says over her shoulder to Cyra, “Well, are you coming?”

“It is the dark of night, Clarke kom Skaikru!  _ Clarke of the Sky People _ . It is no time to be tramping about the forest,” Cyra says indignantly, but she follows Clarke despite her objection.

“I’m hardly  _ tramping _ ,” Clarke says, indignance now coloring her own voice, “I learned a thing or two traveling with you.” 

Cyra can’t deny that Clarke’s footfalls are not as noisy as they might have once been when she was fresh off the dropship. She is hardly the same person who first arrived on the ground.

Clarke imagines then, that Cyra takes an excessive amount of joy out of saying, as she points away from them, “You do realize that Polis is in  _ that _ direction?”

Clarke turns toward her, cheeks reddening. She huffs in disbelief. Cyra is actually smiling. Clarke cannot believe it, and yet somehow, she knows it’s true. She grumbles to herself as she changes direction, following Cyra now. It is going to be a long hike to Polis.


	10. Return to the Capitol (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke returns to Lexa.

Cyra precedes Clarke into the throne room, bowing before her Commander. Lexa nods, allowing Cyra to break off and to the side as Clarke sweeps into the room behind her. 

Clarke strides right up to Lexa, mere feet from her. 

“I have learned something about grounder ways recently,” Clarke opens, eyes flashing quickly to Cyra and then back to Lexa, lips twitching in a slight smirk that only Lexa can see. Lexa’s brows furrow.

“It seems that some souls have power over each other. That when there is a strong connection between two souls, they are destined to be linked, no matter their paths in life,” Clarke pauses to allow Lexa to catch up, her still furrowed brow showing that she has no idea where Clarke is going with this.

“Osir keryon ste teina, Lexa,”  _ Our souls are intertwined, Lexa _ , Clarke states, “And even if I don’t understand it, I can accept that I can’t change it.”

Lexa stands before Clarke, surprised, and not least pleased. She smiles softly, “For as long as I remain the Commander, you will always find safety with me, Clarke kom Skaikru.”  _ Clarke of the Sky People. _

Clarke nods, as if she had accomplished what she set out to do, “I cannot promise you anything, Lexa. Only that I will try to find the peace within myself that you seem to see. I may never find it,” she adds, boldness flickering out of her eyes.

Lexa takes Clarke’s hand in her own, looking deep into those eyes, “For as long as you seek it, Clarke, I will remain by your side. Osir keryon ste teina.”  _ Our souls are intertwined. _

Clarke seems bolstered by Lexa’s statement, confidence returning to her eyes. 

“Would you -,” Clarke starts to say hesitantly, “Would you show me Polis?” 

Lexa smiles again, and Clarke finds she is beginning to enjoy making Lexa smile as no one else can. 

“It would be my pleasure, Clarke,” Lexa responds, grasping her hand tighter and leading her towards the chamber door.

Cyra takes up a position behind Clarke at the chamber entrance, hand resting casually on the hilt of her sword as she follows the Commander and the Skai Prisa out of the throne room and into the City of Polis. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who took the time to read this. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feedback and comments are very welcome and appreciated!


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